


Morning After

by fictocriticism



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Stiles/Lydia Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictocriticism/pseuds/fictocriticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn't wake up ready for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> For the Stiles/Lydia fest bonus round. Prompt: morning after conversation. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Stiles wakes up hard and fast, the way he always does after the nogitsune lived inside his body. It’s easiest, he realizes now, to wake up like ripping off a band-aid.

That means he has no time to brace himself before coming eye to eye with a naked Lydia Martin. She’s awake too, clearly in the middle of getting out of bed, awkwardly braced with one hand near his shoulder and one foot on the ground and it means her breasts are swaying in his eyeline and he just _cannot look away_.

Although he does shriek a little bit.

“Stiles!” she snaps, and her voice is gloriously deep the way he most likes it but it’s also loud and it seems like — yes, yes he _does_ have a hangover, hello headache.

He slams his eyes shut and tries not to picture the image of Lydia poised above him with her glorious skin on display and her hair falling over her shoulders. He can hear the noise of her pulling a sheet up, and feels it uncover his feet, which isn’t ideal but perhaps acceptable in this situation. His feet don’t have too much to hide.

“Stiles,” she says again, and this time she sounds long-suffering, and how is that fair considering he’s just been lying here minding his own business?

He opens his eyes more carefully this time, lets them dart quickly across to where she’s perched on the edge of the mattress, now carefully covered by his bedroom sheet. Oh jesus, he won’t be able to use these sheets ever again. Not without picturing her wrapped in them. Maybe he won’t ever take them off.

“Yes?” he asks, pleasantly surprised that his voice doesn’t crack even if it is in that breathy register he hates.

“Are you really going to say nothing?” she asks, and she’s snappish now. It’s a tone he’s unfortunately well acquainted with and — look, if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m not _not_ saying anything!” he exclaims. “I’m talking! I’m always talking! I just don’t know exactly what I should be talking about.”

Lydia mouth sets in a hard line.

“Stiles,” she starts, and flicks a piece of hair out of her eyes — god, her hair is down and flowing everywhere without _any_ pins in it, and wow, Stiles loves that look. Right, focus.

“We had sex, Stiles.”

Stiles gulps. “I, uhh, I did assume that, yes.”

“Assume? Can you not remember it?”

Stiles feels himself want to curl into a ball in the hopes she’d not be able to notice him and take her anger elsewhere.

“Of course I do!” he says. Loudly. “Of course! I liked it. Nay, I _loved_ it.”

Lydia’s eyes narrow then and Stiles realizes this is so much worse than he expected when he woke up.

“Tell me one thing about it, then.” The sheet is still tucked firmly under her arms but Stiles can see the outline of her breasts through it and it’s not helping him focus. Especially when she huffs and tugs the sheet around a bit. It all just _jostles_. He slides up the bed a little, pulling himself into a sitting position.

“Right,” he says. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to talk about our special night like this. So crass, Lydia, really. It was _special_.”

It probably was special. It was probably the best night of his life and apparently Stiles was so drunk he can’t _remember_ it. What did he do to deserve this? Okay, he can think of quite a number of things, but _still_.

“Just one thing, Stiles,” she says, “I’m just asking you to tell me one specific from our _special_ night together.”

She’s radiant now, all fiery in the way he likes her best, smug and smiling. He wishes desperately that he could remember anything; he can’t _believe_ he might have missed his chance to know what sex with Lydia might have been like considering he’s been in love with her for so long. And she’d never sleep with him again now. This is a nightmare.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, too distraught now to pretend otherwise. “I can’t remember what happened. I hate the idea that we slept together and I can’t _remember_ any of it. I hate that we slept together when I was apparently this drunk — why would I think that is a good idea? I’m so sorry.”

He’s taking deep breaths now, ones that have an unfortunate tendency of being familiar around Lydia. “God, I’m such an _idiot_ , after all this time, having it happen like this, god—”

He sucks in a shocked breath as Lydia presses her lips to his. She’s leaning over him, the sheet forgotten and slipping a little, but he can’t even look at that now. He just closes his eyes and gives himself over to the sensation of her mouth on his and her tongue sliding gently over his bottom lip. It’s glorious, sweet and wet. There’s a hint of morning breath, to be honest, but he can ignore it.

“Huh?” he says eloquently when she pulls away. His hands are all over her, one on her shoulder and the other one is on her hip. Jesus, he didn’t even notice them moving on their own. Well done, hands.  

“We didn’t have sex,” she says then.

“We didn’t have sex,” he repeats dumbly. “Hang on, _we didn’t_?”

Stiles knows his mouth is hanging open and he knows that’s not a good look for him but he can’t help it.

“Really?” He hopes Lydia’s also ignoring the way his voice squeaks.

“We didn’t,” she confirms. “I just wanted to see what you would say.”

Stiles manages to close his mouth enough to swallow. “But _why_?”

Lydia pauses then, fidgets a little with her hair, lets one hand rest on his.

“We were going to have sex,” she says. “We were both pretty drunk.”

Stiles snorts — understatement of the year. Scott’s birthday party had been pretty epic with wolfsbane spiked alcohol for the supernaturals and plenty of normally potent beverages for the rest of them. He is not surprised to be hungover.

“And then you brought me back here to stay over — it was all innocent, really — until it wasn’t. And then, you stopped me.” Lydia smiles warmly at him then. “Said you didn’t want to do this when we were so drunk. That if we were going to have sex, it was going to be special.”

“Well, that was surprisingly gracious of me.”

Lydia laughs. “It was. It was lovely. Even if you then passed out so quickly I barely had time to say goodnight.”

“Right,” Stiles says. “Okay. Wow.”

He doesn’t really know what to say now. His whole morning has just been thrown on its head and he’s a little disturbed by experience. Still, most importantly, Lydia’s here, next to him in his bed.

 _Naked_.

“Come on,” Lydia says, and pokes him in the stomach. Hard. This woman is a demon. “You’re taking me out to breakfast.”

“Am I?” Stiles says and pointedly watches the way she wriggles out of the bed and into his shirt laying on the ground. She mostly succeeds in staying covered from his eyes but he catches a tantalizing glimpse of the skin over her hip bone at one point. It’s beautiful.

“I can think of other exciting things we could be doing, if I’m honest.”

“Breakfast,” she says again. “I expect something fantastic.”

“Okay, but you better change. I can’t have my dad seeing you in my clothes — especially if we haven’t even had sex yet. There’s a time and a place, Lydia, and this is not it.”

“Haven’t had sex _yet_ ,” Lydia says over her shoulder, and saunters out the door to the bathroom.

And there goes his mouth again, flapping open. He watches her hips sway out of the room and then flops back onto the bed with a sigh.

It might not be the morning after Stiles though it was, but maybe it could be a morning before.

“Breakfast,” he says and throws off the sheet to vault out of bed just as Lydia walks back in the room.

And now that’s _twice_ he’s shrieked this morning.


End file.
